


Ghost Stories

by ThriceDeceased (JMDaniels)



Series: RieverVerse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Mild Angst, Sibling Arguments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25561084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JMDaniels/pseuds/ThriceDeceased
Summary: Toram is a mechanic who’s seen her fair share of rough situations. She likes to stay out of fights, but sometimes, she gets caught in the crossfire. When she comes across a damaged ship and a crying child while looking for a ride off world, she might’ve just taken another step into No Man’s Land. Mando is still on the search for the Child’s people, stopping in even the most questionable parts of the galaxy in an attempt to learn more about the mysterious Jedi.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Grogu | Baby Yoda & Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: RieverVerse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852327
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Ghost Stories

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I’m planning for this to be pretty slow burn, but there will be eventual smut (and a lot of it, if the scenarios saved in my notes have anything to say about it). For now, we need to get everyone together.
> 
> Takes place sometime after Chapter 8.

He stumbled out of the cantina, trying to turn and give another excuse, only to be shoved away once again.

“I’m not the only one with a price on my head,” he growled to the Twi’lek now guarding the door, “especially not here.”

“It’s more than a price for you, though. A request, if the rumors are true,” said the guard, arms folded as he leaned back against the wall.

The smuggler yanked at his jacket to straighten it. “So what? It’s all the same.”

The Twi’lek shrugged. “If that’s what you believe, fine.”

He let out a harsh laugh. “Didn’t realize you Twi’s were so superstitious.” He shook his head and scratched at his jaw. “They might be sending mercs after me, but ghost stories aren’t real.”

He pursed his lips, nodding. “Yeah, but nobody wants to get caught in the crossfire. Riever or not.”

A loud scoff and the smuggler was walking away, waving a dismissive hand back at the guard.

“I’d keep out of the shadows, if I were you,” the Twi’lek called after him.

“Fuck off!” he shouted back.

The smuggler stalked back to the small building where he’d managed to find lodging.

 _Bastards, all of them,_ he thought as he entered his room and locked the door. _Can’t even let a guy enjoy himself._

He grumbled as he walked around the tiny kitchen, searching the cupboards for the bottle he’d tucked away, hoping to make up for the lack of drink he’s found at the cantina. He was oblivious as a heavy boot appeared from the darkness behind him.

The figure moved fluidly, closing the distance between itself and the smuggler without a sound.

A spike of primal fear burst in his chest as its gloved hand suddenly grasped him by the hair.

There was no time to call out, no time to fight back, no time to even register the press of the blade before his life simply ceased.

The smuggler’s body thudded dully onto the floor. His head remained suspended in the figure’s grip before being neatly slipped into a thick, stained bag at its belt.

~*~*~*~

Nal Hutta was a reeking pit of a planet and Toram hated every second that she was there. Unfortunately, with the amount of smugglers and mercenaries that landed their damaged ships there on a regular basis, there was good work to be found for a mechanic.

Despite the credits, she was more than ready to leave.

She stalked into the local cantina for one last meal before she’d try to hitch a ride offworld.

“And it ripped his arm clean off, slicing his buddy open across the belly with its durasteel claws!” Davro was exclaiming as she walked in, holding up his curled fingers and baring his teeth.

Toram rolled her eyes.

Davro spotted her, hopping up from his seat and calling after her.

She looked down at him as he appeared next to her at the bar, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

He leaned close, a giddy expression on his face. “Did you hear about the smuggler who went missing the other day? They kicked him out of here because rumors say that somebody sent the Riever after him. He didn’t show up for his drop off on Kashyyyk.”

She sighed as she lifted a hand to get the bartender’s attention. “I try not to consume gossip on an empty stomach. And you know I don’t go in for your ghost stories.”

“Well, then how do you expl—”

“Mercenaries,” she stated. “Mercenaries, bounty hunters, and assassins. All very real. The real reasons that people end up missing.”

He pursed his lips at her as the droid behind the bar stopped in front of her and she ordered a bowl of stew.

When she pushed away from the bar to go find a table, he was right at her heels.

“What about the Mandalorian?”

She shook her head as she eased down into a booth. “What Mandalorian?”

Davro plopped down across from her, excitement renewed. “An old gunship landed in the field right outside of town. Apparently, a Mandalorian stepped out. If it’s the one the Empire is after, he picked a bad place to refuel,” he said with a snort.

Toram gave a small nod. “That, he did.”

“Who do you think’ll go for him first? Wareq or Ykef? Maybe Pav?” he was practically shaking with glee.

“Who knows?” she said, offering a shrug.

He pouted. “Where’s your betting spirit, Toram?”

“Lost it about twenty years ago,” she said dryly. “Ironically, in a bet.”

It was Davro’s turn to roll his eyes. “Whatever.” He stood up as a droid approached the table with her stew. “Just send me word if you see anything interesting on your way out today. I like fitting all the pieces together.”

“You mean making shit up?” The droid set her bowl down in front of her.

Davro grinned, giving an innocent shrug. “Call it what you like.”

~*~*~*~

It began sometime later. The cry for help.

It vibrated deep, pulling at something far below the level of hearing, strumming across nerves in its desperate panic.

The utter, galaxy-shattering anguish of it was enough to reveal that a child was its source.

A figure slipped through the dark alleys of town, drawing closer and closer to that silent cry.

~*~*~*~

Mando kept a hand on his blaster, scanning through the crowds as people turned to stare at him.

He doubted that any of the information he’d gotten while quietly asking around town would be worth anything. The planet was mostly populated by the worst liars and thieves in the galaxy. He would’ve found more luck on an uninhabited world.

The walk back out to the _Crest_ was a tense one. He let his hand fall to his side, but kept it ready, prepared for a fight to break out solely for the armor he wore.

When he got within view of the ship, he squeezed the grip of his blaster once again.

The side ramp was lowered and sparks flew as someone welded along the edge of it. The kid sat at the top of the ramp, watching the lights with great interest.

He slipped his blaster free and aimed as he got closer. “Get up,” he commanded coldly. “Away from the little one.”

She looked up, pulling her goggles down so that they hung loosely around her neck, revealing a cruel scar that stretched across her face. She seemed unimpressed, but she did as he said anyway.

He walked closer, stealing a glance at the kid and finding him seemingly unharmed. The baby even cooed quietly, a small grin showing his tiny teeth. He brought his gaze back to the woman.

“What are you doing here? What happened?” he asked, lowering his blaster slightly.

She shrugged. “From what I can tell, those idiots broke into your ship and took the kid.” She gestured off behind her and he could make out a scattering of bodies across the field. “I was on my way out here to find a ride offworld and heard the baby crying, stuck under one of the bodies. Looks like somebody took them out before they could do much with the spoils.”

He looked back to the child, slowly holstering his blaster. His gaze went to the ramp. “And my ship?”

She walked over to it, crouching back down where she’d been. “Like I said, they must’ve broken in. They fucked up the seal around the ramp to get it open, so now it won’t be much use if you want to leave the atmosphere. I’m trying to fix it. Figured you wouldn’t want to stick around too long if people are trying to steal your kid from you.”

He watched her slip the goggles back over her eyes and get back to work.

“How much?” he asked.

She paused, lowering her tools a fraction. “What?”

He gestured to the ramp. “For the repairs.” A small coo reached him and he met big brown eyes. “And for looking after the kid.”

She considered for a moment before looking up at him. “A ride off of this stink pit would be nice,” she said.

He took her in for a moment. Long, dark hair, shot through with a streak of silver and pulled into an intricate braid. A black bandana tied loosely around her neck and a deep blue leather jacket. A belt decorated with an assortment of tools and a blaster. 

“Okay,” he said, walking up the ramp and picking up the kid. He looked down at her. “You got a name?”

“Toram,” she stated simply.

“Toram. We’ll leave when it’s fixed.”

She nodded, looking back down at the section she was working on as Mando walked deeper into the ship, the sparks flying once again.


	2. The Mechanic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Vayik and the Finder, two sisters who have a tense but caring relationship with one another. Mando remains cautious around Toram, despite that fact that she watched over the child in his absence and repaired damages to his ship. The Riever claims another victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only storyline taking place in chronological order is the one involving Mando. Just wanted to state that early on.

Vayik marched down the hall, gripping a fistful of brushes that were stiff with the dried remnants of brightly colored paint. She was glad for the relatively empty path, not trusting herself to keep her temper entirely in check should she so much as bump into someone on her way to confront the one who was undoubtedly responsible.

Her gloved fingers further tightened as she neared the open workshop door, teeth gritted as she stormed inside.

She almost immediately came to a halt, poorly concealed giggles reaching her as she took in the sight before her.

The Finder looked up from where she was tinkering at her worktable, expression calm. Her gaze shifted from Vayik’s tense stance and rigid shoulders, to the leather straining over her knuckles where she held the brushes.

Vayik was more preoccupied with the sight of small arms wrapped around the Finder’s neck and scraped knees tucked tight against her waist, the faint giggles even more noticeable now.

The Finder seemed entirely unfazed. “Good morning, _vod_ ,” she said simply.

Vayik brought her eyes back up and furiously held up the brushes. “Care to explain why the _ceiling_ outside of the forge is suddenly _very_ pink and green?” she growled, voice made all the more accusatory by the crackle of her modulator.

“Personally, I think we’re in the early stages of an infestation,” reasoned the Finder. She gave no indication that she heard any of the giggling as it intensified. 

When it became clear that the giggles had more than one source, Vayik eased. But only slightly. “Is that so?”

The Finder nodded before taking slow, awkward steps around the table between them, revealing two more small children, one clinging to each of her legs. She gestured solemnly down at them. “As you can see, my workshop has already been overrun. I guess that makes the forge the next target.” She shrugged, all three children dropping any attempt at being sneaky with their laughter. “You should probably warn Kith.”

“I shouldn’t have to warn them about anything,” she said, crossing her arms, “because there shouldn’t be any paint on the walls outside of the mural spaces. And there _certainly_ shouldn’t be any paint on the ceilings or in the forge. Isn’t that right?” Her helmet very pointedly titled down toward Alamak and Lisith, who were still sitting on the Finder’s boots and clinging to her.

The pair of them visibly shrank at Vayik’s words.

“Sorry, _buir_ ,” Lisith said as Alamak mumbled his own apology. They let go of the Finder and scrambled up to their feet.

Vayik tilted her helmet, indicating the door behind her, and the two were quick to rush out and find other things to entertain them.

Once they had left, her attention was solely forward again. “That includes you, Kerreeka,” she said, voice stern.

A small face appeared over the Finder’s shoulder. “But—”

“No arguing,” Vayik said firmly. “You know where you’re allowed to paint, and you painted where you weren’t supposed to.”

Kerreeka reluctantly slid down off of the Finder’s back, her head hanging as she shuffled forward. “I’m sorry for painting on the ceiling,” she said softly, pouting. “I won’t do it anymore.”

Vayik just looked the girl over for a moment before sighing heavily and stepping aside. “Go on. Find the others.”

She left the room just as quickly as the other two had, scrambling to get away from the tension.

Then, it was just Vayik and the Finder. 

They were both silent for a few seconds, neither of them really wanting to start the conversation, but knowing that it needed to happen.

Vayik’s shoulders slowly slumped and she walked closer to the worktable, setting the brushes down.

The Finder broke the silence first. “Don’t be too hard on them,” she said, dark eyes searching the Mandalorian’s posture.

“I wouldn’t have to be if you would stop encouraging such dangerous behavior,” Vayik huffed.

The Finder’s stance shifted, hands on her hips. “I was with them the whole time, _vod_. It was perfectly safe.”

She scoffed. “That’s not the point.”

“What _is_ the point?”

“The _point_ is that you _aren’t_ always here. The _point_ is that they are just children and they will try to do that kind of shit when no one’s around to make sure they don’t hurt themselves!” She jabbed a finger in her sister’s direction. “ _You_ are supposed to be an adult. You should show them how to have fun that _doesn’t_ involve going near the forge while it’s unattended, or painting somewhere that’s impossible to reach when you’re not around! It puts ideas in their heads, makes them forget to be cautious because they assume it’ll all go _just_ how it did when you were there!” Vayik placed her hands flat on the surface of the worktable as she exhaled shakily and tried to compose herself. Her visor shifted level with the Finder’s face. “Those children have your name, _vod_ ,” she said flatly.

The Finder tensed immediately. “Don’t,” she growled.

Vayik didn’t back down. “You’re the one who brought them here. The one who wanted to make sure they had a home, a _family_ —”

“ _Stop it_.”

“—after they’d lost everything. And yet here you are, putting them at risk for _no reason_. Making them feel like they’re invincible, even more so than children already do, when they’re too young to know any better. What are we supposed to do when you’re not here? Kith, Me, Leo, Nevera? We can’t do what you do.” Her shoulders dropped down again, her whole posture seeming very tired. “I need you to tell me you understand that.”

The Finder didn’t look up as she nodded, her voice even rougher than usual. “I understand.”

“ _Good_.”

“I’ll make sure we stay away from the forge, and I’ll keep them grounded the next time they want to paint.” She glanced up at that dark visor. “I’m sorry, Vayik. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Thank you,” she said firmly. And then, quieter, “This all used to be so much easier.”

The Finder took a slow step closer and leaned a hip against the table. “I know.”

The room was silent all over again, but the tension was gone. All that was left was a fractured sort of sorrow.

It was Vayik’s turn to speak first. “I hope they aren’t breaking anything,” she muttered.

One of the Finder’s brows rose. “Kith or the kids?” The subtle tilt of the helmet across from her indicated a harsh glare and she chuckled.

“I’m telling them you said that. We’ll see if you’re still laughing when they melt your little project down into a flimsiweight.”

The Finder shrugged, a grin tugging at her mouth. “That might still make a pretty good weapon. Just have to throw it.”

“Throw it at you, maybe,” Vayik grumbled.

She rolled her eyes at that.

There was a beat before Vayik nodded to the datapad near the edge of the table, out of the way of the main work surface. “Anything new?”

The Finder straightened and walked over to grab the device. “There are a few new parts down in scrap, stuff from older ship models and probably junked droid components. Found some areas to look for information about weaving that specific type of traditional Sullustan robe that Yuumma wants.” She typed something in before handing the datapad to the Mandalorian, smirking. “I’ve also been invited to a party.”

“A party?” asked Vayik as she looked down at the display. Realization set in as she looked over the details and she stiffened. “You can’t do this.”

“I think we both know that I can,” the Finder said slowly. She got the impression that Vayik was scowling down at the datapad.

“That doesn’t mean that you should. Not alone, at least.”

That _sounded_ like a scowl.

The Finder crossed her arms loosely, head tilted. “I’ll be alright. You know I can handle myself if things get complicated.”

That scuffed green helmet lowered a fraction. “And you know that that isn’t always enough,” she said solemnly.

Dark eyes reflexively glanced at the red stripe on Vayik’s left pauldron. There was a matching yellow one on the right. She just nodded, clearing her throat as she looked away.

“Be careful. Okay, _vod_?” Vayik fixed her with a steady gaze. “Make sure those kids have someone to cause trouble with.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will,” said the Finder, chuckling roughly.

Vayik offered a short nod. “Good.” Her helmet turned as she glanced around the workshop, straightening up and tapping her gloved fingers on the worktable to break the growing heaviness in the air. “Is there anything else?”

She sighed, shoulders slowly relaxing. “Just that little project Kith and Leo have been working on for me. I’d like to break them in before I head out, if I can.”

“Alright. I’ll check in with them,” said Vayik. “I think Kith mentioned that they were almost done.”

“I look forward to comparing them to the old ones. See how the craftsmanship has improved over the years.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet tilted. “Are you saying my _riduur_ wasn’t skilled enough when they helped craft the old ones?” she accused, though there was little real force behind it.

The Finder held up her hands in surrender. “I wasn’t saying anything. Just noting that they’ve gotten even better than they were when I first showed up, which was already a remarkable level of skill.”

Vayik shook her head with a scoff, turning on her heel to head out. “ _Sheb’urcyin_.”

“I heard that,” the Finder called, grinning.

“I know,” came the reply as Vayik turned out into the hall.

~*~*~*~

He stood with his back against the sealed doors of the weapon store, looking as relaxed as could be, hands folded and resting at his belt. From that position, he was easily able to watch over the child quietly playing on the narrow bunk next to him, as well as keep an eye on the mechanic as she finished repairing the side ramp. 

His eyes locked onto her when the bright sparks of her welding tools ceased and she stood up to survey her work.

Seemingly satisfied, she removed her goggles, tucked her tools away and hefted her bags up onto her shoulders before ascending the ramp into the ship. Pulling the dark bandana off of her face, she nodded to him. “It’s good to go.”

The scar across her face was made even harsher by the hull’s lower lighting. It spanned from just below her hairline, between her eyes, and down to the opposite side of her jaw. It was old but he could tell it hadn’t healed cleanly.

His helmet dipped in acknowledgement before he took the child into his arms and quickly punched in the code to draw up the telescopic gate and seal it. As it steadily hissed, he made to start up the ladder.

He’d just grabbed a rung and stepped up when she caught his attention.

“Am I allowed up there, or do you want me to stay here?” she asked, a hand on her hip as she pointed in the direction of the cockpit. “I understand if you’d rather keep strangers away, given what happened.” She shrugged in sympathy.

That dark visor turned to her as he considered the consequences of either option. Letting her up meant the possibility of her harming the child or himself, or gaining control of the ship. Leaving her in the hull could allow her to sabotage the ship’s systems, steal supplies, or take advantage of any weapons that were not currently on his person.

The door shut with a dull _clunk_ and his gaze lowered to the blaster at her hip. Being a mechanic, she was likely strong, but he was willing to assume that she relied on scrappiness more than skill in a fight. Still, he’d rather decrease the risk as much as possible.

“Leave your weapons. That includes the tools,” he specified.

For a moment, so brief he might’ve imagined it, tension pulled at her shoulders and something sparked behind her eyes. But it was gone almost instantly, and he wasn’t quite sure if it had been there at all.

She pursed her lips as she looked down at her belt before nodding. “Alright.”

He watched as she unclasped her tool belt and set it down on top of her bags, soon joined by her blaster, still secured in its holster.

When she was done, she held her hands up, brows raised. “Good?”

His posture relaxed fractionally. “Fine.”

Toram waited as he climbed up the ladder, the child carefully tucked against his chest, before she followed. When she stepped into the cockpit, she immediately noticed the open bassinet resting on the foldout seat to the right of the pilot’s seat.

The Mandalorian walked right past it, easing into the pilot’s seat with the baby in his lap.

She just smirked at his protectiveness as she unfolded the chair on the left and sat down, arms crossing over her chest.

He started prepping the ship for flight, the child cooing and watching his movements with those massive brown eyes, ears rising slightly in interest. The rising mechanical whir of the engines powering up overtook the baby’s babbling in the moments before take off, a low rumble spreading through the entirety of the _Crest_. As it lifted off the ground, he braced himself. The moments he actually had to pay attention to flying would be when he was most vulnerable if she wanted to take advantage of him or the child, even if she was currently stripped of her weapons and he was fully armed.

He was also fighting to press down the guilt that began consuming him upon finding out that the child had been in direct danger while he was away. He couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in it when he had to focus on leaving the atmosphere, calculating a reasonable enough place to jump, _and_ keeping an eye on the _Razor Crest’s_ newest passenger.

The little one seemed to pick up on his unease though, making a troubled noise and reaching for his gloved hands where they gripped the yoke.

He took one hand off the controls and let the baby hold it as a sign of reassurance.

They climbed higher up into the atmosphere, the ship shuddering against the resistance until the air gradually thinned.

Once they reached smoother flying and fully left the planet’s gravitational pull, he paused.

His helmet turned slightly to the left as he asked “Where do I need to drop you off?”

Toram shrugged, more to herself than for his benefit. “Anywhere with a decent spaceport will be fine,” she told him.

He gave no response, turning back to the controls again and taking his hand from the child long enough to charge the hyperdrive and set the coordinates for the jump. Pressing the lever forward, the stars stretched around them until the hyperdrive was fully engaged and the ship was swallowed by hyperspace.

The Mandalorian placed his hand back within the child’s grasp and sat back, allowing the guilt to trickle in slowly to keep from upsetting the baby and to prevent himself from being overwhelmed while still feeling wary of Toram.

Throughout the day, there had been little in the way of physical demand, but he was still being weighed down by exhaustion.

~*~*~*~

The tall Weequay bounty hunter scanned the crowds on the street suspiciously, the hood of his coat drawn up to offer some form of disguise as he walked. Such behavior had become common for him in the last few days, ever since a passing acquaintance had let it slip that someone had put a request on him.

He hadn’t believed it at first, assuming it was some joke or mock threat. These things were common among bounty hunters. However, his vague caution had steadily crept into paranoia. He found himself glancing over his shoulder every few steps, reluctant to accept any new bounties for fear of making his location too obvious.

He wanted to believe that the Riever was just a myth, some creature that those operating in the more... _illegitimate_ businesses across the galaxy had made up in order to threaten one another. Wanted to believe that it was just a grandiose bluff.

But he also couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching him.

The Twi’lek and Nautolan couple in front of him stopped abruptly, setting him on edge. His hand closed on the grip of his blaster just as the Nautolan woman excitedly pointed to a fruit stand down the street. 

He couldn’t bring himself to relax, even as the couple scurried off. The constant movement and noise of the night market was torture on his already worn nerves. Fingers still squeezing the blaster at his hip, he quickly turned into an alley, hoping to escape the assault on his senses. 

The level of noise began to decrease only a few yards into the alley and he let out a quiet sigh of relief. There were a few more blocks before the spaceport and he was hoping to stow away on one of the cargo ships heading offworld. Any opportunity to throw pursuit off his trail would be taken advantage of, whether said pursuit was real or not.

His eyes shifted from one alleyway to the next, constantly bracing for someone to rush him, as he briskly moved through the shadows.

Rounding the next corner, his only warning was a dull gleam before something slammed into his chest.

He let out a pained cry, reflexively drawing his weapon and aiming down the alleyway in front of him. He fired, the charge illuminating the walls around him before pinging against an approaching figure.

He kept shooting at the silent form, stumbling back. His tunic was beginning to stick to him, and he risked a glance down, firing wildly in his panic.

The hilt of a blade stuck out of his abdomen. Nausea brought the sour taste of blood to his mouth.

He looked back up as the figure reached him and his blaster was knocked away, sending it skidding across the ground.

Black eyes bore into him as the knife twisted and he helplessly grasped at the figure, blood rising up into his mouth and spilling down his chin.

“Please,” he gasped, scrabbling for purchase, eyes wide. He made a feeble attempt to push out of its hold, to run away or grab his blaster, but it held firm.

The blade was yanked free. For a moment, the pain was gone and he swayed unsteadily, vision focusing on those black eyes. 

Then it was plunged back into him, piercing straight through his heart.

It wasn’t long before all remaining strength bled out of him and he slumped to the ground, eyelids heavy. He listed to the side slightly before collapsing. All movement ceased.

The figure withdrew the blade, wiping it clean on the bounty hunter’s coat and sliding it back into its sheath. It drew another blade, this one larger and heavier, in order to separate the bounty hunter from his head. Again, it used the already stained coat to clean the blade. The head went into a sack connected to the figure’s belt, the body unceremoniously tossed into a dumpster.

Plucking up the discarded blaster, the figure silently disappeared down a dark alleyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _sheb'urcyin_ \- kissass

**Author's Note:**

> Come hangout with me on [tumblr](https://mikeisthricedeceased.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
